only as far as the two-way mirror. She’d heard rumors that many of Derek’s fantasies doubled as features for voyeur clients. Right now, the room beyond the glass could be full of people. Or it could be empty, save for their observer. No way of knowing for certain.
Derek reclaimed her attention by reaching one long arm around Brent to grasp the shaft of his penis. Brent inhaled sharply and struggled against his bindings, yet he looked down between his legs to watch, captivated, as Derek’s enormous hand began to work the rim of his circumcised penis.
Amanda watched too, her interest piqued by Derek’s demeanor. The way he touched Brent wasn’t meant to stimulate or give pleasure. This was something different, far more calculated and controlled. Or maybe ‘controlling’ was the better word, she thought, as Derek continued to knead the tip of Brent’s cock, murmuring into his ear.
“How many letters in the next code, Brent?”
“Five.”
Derek nodded and went back to murmuring. After a while, she caught a snippet. Derek must have raised his voice deliberately. “And when she comes, her pussy pulls so sweet and hot and tight, I’d sell my soul to stay inside her forever.”
This time, she caught a glint of humor as Derek glanced up. Careful to keep a look off her face, she wished he wouldn’t talk that way. Her mind could stray too easily to the last time they were together on set, to lying tangled with him, and the way his torso tightened into rock when he strained to fuck her as deeply as possible.
Derek let go of Brent’s shaft. He sat back and set the stage for her part of the fantasy. “Do you want her, Brent?”
Brent’s response was immediate, if strained. “Yes.”
“All right, then. You know what you have to do. You give her something, she’ll give you something in return. Deal?”
When Brent did not respond right away, Amanda gave incentive. She adjusted her stance to stand with her feet shoulder-width apart, pulling the skirt taut across her thighs. Placing her hands there, she began to slide the fabric up, revealing more and more of the garters.
Both men stared, rapt.
She kept going, feeling a deep, sensual charge at their blatant interest. When the hem began to reveal the Y between her legs, the men were so still and breathless with anticipation she almost laughed.
Maybe the proper thing to do was stop before she revealed anything vital, but she was not playing the good girl next door. She was playing a crime lord’s henchman. For her, sex had to be treated as a tool for extracting what she needed. And the enemy needed proof she could deliver a sexual dream in exchange for a code.
After a good long look at her bare mound, Brent capitulated. “Deal. Take everything off but the garters and heels, and I’ll give you the first letter.”
For a split second, she caught a frown on Derek’s face. Irritation, maybe? Impatience? Whatever it was, it came and went in a blink, and he did not linger on it. He was up and out of the interrogation room a moment later to watch through the glass while Brent gave up the letters, one by one.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Amanda went to work. She brought her feet back together and let the skirt fall, hiding the prize. “I’m not crazy about those terms. Giving you anything on credit doesn’t sound like a great idea. So how about you give me the letter first, and then I’ll strip.”
She was disappointed when he didn’t put up much of a fight. He immediately said T was the first letter.
She took her time with the reward, reaching behind her back to slowly unzip the skirt. From the moment she stepped out of it, Brent’s eyes never strayed from her pubis, not even while she unbuttoned the shirt and flung it onto the table with the skirt. Only once the bra came off did he allow his gaze to travel higher.
Clad only in the garters, silk hosiery and stilettos, she approached. “What do you want for the next letter?”
“I want you to
Derek reclaimed her attention by reaching one long arm around Brent to grasp the shaft of his penis. Brent inhaled sharply and struggled against his bindings, yet he looked down between his legs to watch, captivated, as Derek’s enormous hand began to work the rim of his circumcised penis.
Amanda watched too, her interest piqued by Derek’s demeanor. The way he touched Brent wasn’t meant to stimulate or give pleasure. This was something different, far more calculated and controlled. Or maybe ‘controlling’ was the better word, she thought, as Derek continued to knead the tip of Brent’s cock, murmuring into his ear.
“How many letters in the next code, Brent?”
“Five.”
Derek nodded and went back to murmuring. After a while, she caught a snippet. Derek must have raised his voice deliberately. “And when she comes, her pussy pulls so sweet and hot and tight, I’d sell my soul to stay inside her forever.”
This time, she caught a glint of humor as Derek glanced up. Careful to keep a look off her face, she wished he wouldn’t talk that way. Her mind could stray too easily to the last time they were together on set, to lying tangled with him, and the way his torso tightened into rock when he strained to fuck her as deeply as possible.
Derek let go of Brent’s shaft. He sat back and set the stage for her part of the fantasy. “Do you want her, Brent?”
Brent’s response was immediate, if strained. “Yes.”
“All right, then. You know what you have to do. You give her something, she’ll give you something in return. Deal?”
When Brent did not respond right away, Amanda gave incentive. She adjusted her stance to stand with her feet shoulder-width apart, pulling the skirt taut across her thighs. Placing her hands there, she began to slide the fabric up, revealing more and more of the garters.
Both men stared, rapt.
She kept going, feeling a deep, sensual charge at their blatant interest. When the hem began to reveal the Y between her legs, the men were so still and breathless with anticipation she almost laughed.
Maybe the proper thing to do was stop before she revealed anything vital, but she was not playing the good girl next door. She was playing a crime lord’s henchman. For her, sex had to be treated as a tool for extracting what she needed. And the enemy needed proof she could deliver a sexual dream in exchange for a code.
After a good long look at her bare mound, Brent capitulated. “Deal. Take everything off but the garters and heels, and I’ll give you the first letter.”
For a split second, she caught a frown on Derek’s face. Irritation, maybe? Impatience? Whatever it was, it came and went in a blink, and he did not linger on it. He was up and out of the interrogation room a moment later to watch through the glass while Brent gave up the letters, one by one.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Amanda went to work. She brought her feet back together and let the skirt fall, hiding the prize. “I’m not crazy about those terms. Giving you anything on credit doesn’t sound like a great idea. So how about you give me the letter first, and then I’ll strip.”
She was disappointed when he didn’t put up much of a fight. He immediately said T was the first letter.
She took her time with the reward, reaching behind her back to slowly unzip the skirt. From the moment she stepped out of it, Brent’s eyes never strayed from her pubis, not even while she unbuttoned the shirt and flung it onto the table with the skirt. Only once the bra came off did he allow his gaze to travel higher.
Clad only in the garters, silk hosiery and stilettos, she approached. “What do you want for the next letter?”
“I want you to
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